Dedication

Al and Clara Mae Cockrell
1976

Earlier this year I signed up for a memoir workshop here in Austin.  I really had no intention of publishing a memoir, but I have always loved writing. Many years ago when I worked at Temple-Inland in Diboll, I took a novel writing course at Rice University in Houston. I commuted the 100 miles each way on Thursday nights for over a year. The professor was a fabulous teacher who had us write wonderful topics to practice our craft for the inevitable bestseller we longed to publish.  Some of the topics included 

• writing a brief history of six generations of our families
• developing a scene of a time or place 
• place where I was born and why I was born there
• a personal letter your character writes to someone in the novel
• a two paragraph jacket blurb summarizing the novel

These were just a few of the 10 or so topics assigned each 6-weeks session. Anyway, I really loved the class, and unfortunately the professor announced to us at the beginning of the advanced session that he had been diagnosed with cancer and that he would be leaving the class. He wanted us to continue, and even allowed us to bring him our papers while he was in isolation at M.D. Anderson.  At the hospital, we dropped our drafts into a safe zone where they were sterilized so he could hold them. I am sorry to say he died and a beautiful piece was published in the Houston Chronicle that captured his passionate work with fledgling writers.

I tell you this to illustrate the importance of family stories to any writing. This is where my professor Dr. Venkatesh Kulkarni wanted his students to focus as they started writing a novel. Write about what you know is the age-old truth we followed.

So now in 2016, I have written a dozen or so pieces that comprise the beginning of a memoir, a remembering of my life. It is important to note that this is how I remember it; it may not be how you remember it. That's the tricky part. I write the pieces in story format, so scenes are recreated as I remember them or described as they may have logically existed. I will publish some of these pieces here on my blog. Al and Clara Mae Cockrell, the couple in the photo above, are my fraternal grandparents and their story and the story of their families plays a prominent role in my early storytelling. My eyes mist as I remember them.  They were fine people. Salt of the earth. I miss their goodness and sense of right and wrong, their ability to dream, their love of education, their generosity and friendliness to their family and neighbors, their humor, their animated discussions about events and issues of the day, their love of family, and their storytelling.  I hear their voices still; and as we remember through the stories, I hope you will, too.

(C) Copyright 2016  Carolyn Elmore

Spotlight

I saw the movie Spotlight, and I hoped it would win the Oscar for best picture.  Mark Ruffalo was just fantastic as a passionate reporter who believes in the power of the fourth estate and its unique ability to expose the wrongdoings of seemingly untouchable institutions and people.

I was a journalist early in my career, either practicing it or teaching it, and the last part of it was spent in pr working with the press in one way or another.  Printer’s ink runs in my veins, but sadly today, I subscribe to only one printed newspaper, one day a week, the Sunday New York Times.  Whether you agree with its editorial policy or not, it still boasts of some of the best writing in the world.

Most of my news these days comes from Twitter where I follow every news outlet I can think of including the BBC and other international organizations.  As should be everyone’s practice, I read news blurbs with a healthy dose of skepticism, then go directly to the longer version for the whole story. Coincidently, I have just finished reading former Washington Post publisher Katharine Graham’s autobiography Personal History, a massive tale of her life that is riveting in its pace and content. Kate gives a behind-the-scene insider’s view of how the Post management handled the Watergate affair.  I dog-eared this passage to share as a reminder of just what the fourth estate means to America, especially now.  Have politicians learned anything from the Nixon scandal?  What do you think?

“As astounding as Watergate was to the country and the government, it underscored the crucial role of a free, able, and energetic press.  We saw how much power the government has to reveal what it wants when it wants, to give the people only the authorized version of events.  We re-learned the lessons of the importance of the right of a newspaper to keep its sources confidential.

“The credibility of the press stood the test of time against the credibility of those who spent so much time self-righteously denying their own wrongdoing and assaulting us by assailing our performance and our motives.  In a speech I made in 1970 – before the Pentagon Papers and before Watergate – I said: “[T]he cheap solutions being sought by the administration will, in the long run, turn out to be very costly.” And indeed they did.”

Katharine Graham, Personal History. New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1997; rpt. New York, First Vantage Book Edition, 1998.

John Fogerty

I saw this fellow in Las Vegas in January.  His voice sounds great, and he is full of energy.  He played for 2 hours no break.  I read his autobiography and learned he is an avid runner.  Despite what you might think with his tremendous lifetime songbook, his life has not been easy.  In fact he has spent most of his career trying to get ownership of the songs he wrote from his original record label.  The guy is one of those singer/songwriting geniuses that I miss so much in the 21st century. I was so surprised to find out that many people think Ike and Tina Turner wrote Proud Mary.  No, John Fogarty did. He kept a little notebook in which he wrote down words or phrases that appealed to him as perhaps the subject of a song.  Proud Mary was his first entry. He doesn't know where it came from, but there it lay on the page until he received his honorable discharge papers from the army.  He was so happy he ran outside and did a cartwheel.  He ran back in the house and, well, let him tell it: "...picked up my Rickenbacker. I'd been working on these chords, and now I had such a rush of energy and good feeling, like a weight had been lifted off--it was just whewwwww.  And out came the first line: 'Left a good job in the city..."* Proud Mary became a boat, rolling down the river! Great story and great concert, John. He's touring across the country, so if he gets close, go see him.  He is up there in the stratosphere with the rock & roll greats. 

* John Fogerty, Fortunate Son, (New York Little, Brown and Company, 2015). pp. 156-157.

I want to write about music.  I want to write about books.  I want to write about some of the amazing shows that I am watching on Netflix, that wonderful medium that has rescued mankind from network television. I want to write about my life growing up.  I want to engage people in the conversation of our lifetimes because there are a lot of you out there who are my age and have experienced what I have experienced.  Sharing those experiences is fun and gives a sense of well-being and community to people who may feel isolated because they no longer work.  We Boomers get credit for being a huge class of people, but we may be the most passionate, sensitive and change-making since the Renaissance.  I look forward to your comments...ce

The Lake Tejas Factor

"Some of us sing to ourselves or even just whistle when we think no one is listening, and often there is music 'playing' in our heads.  A region of the brain seems to be devoted primarily to sonic memory, and that includes not just ringtones, dog growls, and ambulance sirens, but also snippits of songs, mainly recordings, that we've heard as well...Everyone has had a song 'transport' them to a vivid memory of an early romance or some other formative experience.  Songs are like smells that way; they can dredge up worlds, very specific places and moments."

-- How Music Works, David Byrne

David Byrne is so right! Every time I hear the Beatles Get Back I am laser beamed into my teenage years at Lake Tejas in Colmesneil, Texas.  the lake was a summer haunt for all of us teenagers growing up in that part of East Texas. That's me on the slide aged 5 and later in school...ce

(C) Copyright 2016  Carolyn Elmore